by William Wordsworth
“The minstrels played their Christmas tune
To-night beneath my cottage-eaves;
While, smitten by a lofty moon,
The encircling laurels, thick with leaves,
Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,
That overpowered their natural green.
Through hill and valley every breeze
Had sunk to rest with folded wings:
Keen was the air, but could not freeze,
Nor check, the music of the strings;
So stout and hardy were the band
That scraped the chords with strenuous hand.
And who but listened?-till was paid
Respect to every inmate’s claim,
The greeting given, the music played
In honour of each household name,
Duly pronounced with lusty call,
And ‘Merry Christmas’ wished to all.”
Throughout December and early January we’d love to hear from you with your favourite (or self-penned) Christmas and winter verse.
NB: Any self written poems will be credited to you unless you specify otherwise. We cannot guarantee which poems will be included but will try to include as many as possible.
Please complete the form below: